


You tell me every time...

by LacrimosaTheDark



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Inspired by Music, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 11:56:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16017410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LacrimosaTheDark/pseuds/LacrimosaTheDark
Summary: Roman realizes he's screwed up for so long, and it's too much, far too much.He needs to make up for it in the best way he can.





	You tell me every time...

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's apparently on a writing kick?!
> 
> This was just cuz I cannot stop listening to Thomas' cover of Breathing and he admitted there was Anxiety/Virgil symbolism in the video and I couldn't get this out of my head. So here you go.

Roman couldn’t stop singing to himself. The song was stuck in Thomas’ head, and subsequently his own. He’d been pondering the song for some time now. Thomas had said he really felt the song, it spoke of a familiar feeling. And while Roman was not the smartest Side, he knew Thomas resonating with the song meant at least one of the Sides knew the feeling as well.

He’d never really understood before, just knew the resentment of being held back, then the almost-reluctant acceptance that followed. Admittedly poetics were easier to get through to him then medical jargon. He knew he still didn’t fully understand, but even just this little rancid taste of it left him reeling.

Roman curled into himself, feeling the even more swollen guilt in his throat. He’d been selfish, cruel, decidedly unprincely. He’d thought of his own path and his own desires alone. Even if he was the most important (I mean, because he obviously is) he was meant to care for and protect his subjects, not hurt them. And as part of Thomas, even the Sides he disagreed with should be among those he defended.

And he’d hurt. Senselessly. Roughly. Pointlessly. Roman knew he was no villain, but he certainly didn’t feel like a hero right now. He felt wholly unworthy of his royal title and regal attire.

He felt his guilt crawling up his throat, pushing liquid up into his eyes. He squeezed them shut and ducked his head into his knees. He felt warm, uncomfortably so. He pulled off his sash and his tunic, gripping them tightly in his hands, leaving him just in his black t-shirt. Part of him wanted to clutch the prince costume to his chest like a child he had reared himself, as if it were something precious to be cared for. Another part of him wanted to tear it apart and chuck the pieces across the stage he sat on.

He had entirely misjudged. And he was trying to make up for it now, but could he ever? Would he be able to make up for the awful things he’d said, the threats and insults he’d thrown like confetti at the mere thought of the other? Often he was certain, he was proud and he knew he could do anything. But sometimes, sometimes doubt gnawed at him like a starved dog.

He hadn’t noticed his soft singing coming more in sharp gasps rather than deep stomach-filling breaths, so absorbed in his thoughts. He didn’t notice his heart pounding under the feeling of vertigo. He didn’t notice the clenched shaking fists in his clothes through his fuzzy watery eyes. He didn’t notice the tracks down his face through the heat and sweat gripping at his body.

He did notice, and startle some, when he heard clapping. Not applause like he usually craved, but a solid, steady metronome. Roman focused on the sound, re-situating his singing, and subsequently his breathing, to the tempo of the beats. His head cleared some, enough for him to recognize the black cuffs around the hands, stumbling over his breaths at it. But the claps persisted, maybe even more insistent, and Roman tried again. He wouldn’t fail.

He was so entirely focused on the song and the clapping that he almost didn’t hear the deeper gravel harmonizing with his weak croaking. By the time he’d finished and not started again, there was a figure kneeling in front of him, black-rimmed eyes trained on him with a knowledge and familiarity that made Roman want to squirm. But he didn’t.

“You alright there, Princey?”

Roman almost broke all over again, almost spilled all of his secrets, his regrets, all the apologies his pride kept up in his chest. He covered his mouth before they could spill out in a sob. A hand slowly reached forward, giving him ample time to back away, before it settled on his shoulder. The warmth of it was different than the overbearing weight of his princely garb. He wanted that warmth to touch him everywhere, and to stay forever and never let go. Even he knew that was delusional, but he wished.

“What...are you doing here?” he finally managed to croak out. “Thought you were busy today. All that computer stuff and whatever.”

Virgil shrugged. “Yeah. Still working. But hey, can’t have you stealing my thunder.”

Roman’s eyes glanced down at Virgil’s jacket and laughed wetly, almost hysterically. “Goodness gracious, that was wonderfully awful. Logan would hate it.”

“Mm. Patton would love it,” he said with a smirk. He squeezed the hand on Roman’s shoulder meaningfully. “Wanna talk about it or do you want a distraction?”

Roman looked down at Virgil’s hand and and bit his lip. He wanted...something. But he couldn’t ask. He knew Virgil wasn’t the most comfortable with touch to begin with, it would be too much to--

“Hey,” Virgil said, snapping his other hand in front of Roman’s face. “Here and now, kay? In and out. Just keep breathin’.”

Roman’s lips quirked upward weakly as he took a deep breath, for Virgil’s sake. As Virgil stared intently at him, he kept breathing, matching up with the pace that Virgil had started tapping on his shoulder. Once it was even, Virgil opened his mouth again.

“ ‘m not a mindreader, Princey. I don’t wanna do somethin’ wrong. You know me, paranoid beyond reason. I’m not gonna do anything you don’t ask for.” He tilted his head, his bangs hanging even more in his eyes. “Tell me what you want, Roman. What do you need?” When he heard Roman mumble something softly, he frown. “Can’t hear you, dude. Come on, I _know_ you’re louder than that.”

“I...” Roman gulped nervously, refusing to look at Virgil’s face. He looked terrified. “I...I’d like...may I...could you, maybe, perhaps, uh...” He shook his head and tapped a pattern on his knee. “...hug? Please?”

The pause where nothing happened, the air silent and motionless, sent Roman off into a flurry of apologies and excuse, but they were abruptly cut off as Virgil sat beside him and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. Roman looked up at him, almost in awe. Virgil looked away, blushing somewhat. “Stop...don’t make this a...thing.” Roman hesitated before leaning closer, and Virgil’s grip around him tightened. “I’m here,” he whispered. Roman’s eyes filled themselves again, and he turned to bury his face in Virgil’s hood. Virgil moved his hand in a soothing circular motion as Roman shook and clung to the other like his life depended on it.

Neither of them had any clue how long they sat there, but eventually a half-conscious Roman reluctantly pulled away and rose to his feet. He snapped his princely garb back on, and answered the gaze on his back with, “I have something I need to do.” Behind him, Virgil nodded, prepared to try to pretend this had never happened. But Roman had other plans as he seemed to force out, “Hey, Virge?”

Virgil looked up to see Roman partly turned to face him, looking at him with an almost shy smile. He was a mess, his hair mussed and damp in some places, his eyes red and swollen, tear tracks in all directions on his face. But he was still Roman, and he seemed so much more right with a smile on his face.

“Thank you,” Roman said, just before sinking out to do...whatever he had to do. Virgil felt stunned by the pure genuine emotion in Roman’s voice. He meant it.

Virgil huffed a sigh and ruffled his own hair. He was glad to help, but he had a job to do, and computer problems to overthink and worry about when he could do nothing.

 

* * *

 

 

The final product had been the last straw.

He knew he was gonna be even more busy when he found out Roman had tossed the idea for a last-minute cover video. The song didn’t even really surprise him, it had been stuck in Thomas’ head for a while. Virgil would admit he was rather fond of it himself. And he felt validated, knowing Thomas understood him somewhat.

But during brainstorming and during recording and even editing, as he did his usual hovering at the edges, being a perpetual timer but mostly keeping to himself and giving off a low-key vibe of urgency, he saw it. Instead of not being noticed at all, or getting annoyed or excited glances, Roman kept...looking at him. It was hard to explain or understand what it looked like, even harder to describe what it was doing to Virgil imaginary guts. If Virgil were uncharacteristically hopeful, he say the looks were affectionate. He tried not to think about the sweat on his palms or the twists in his stomach.

But during editing, he saw Roman whispering into Thomas’ ear. He didn’t know what it was at the time, but he did now as he nearly pounded on Roman’s door.

When the door opened, Roman looked startled but not really surprised. “Good evening, Virgil. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Can I come in?” he asked. As Roman stepped aside to grant him entry he stormed right in with nervous purpose. He heard Roman close the door, but he already felt the nerves bubbling up fiercely and he paced across the room as his thoughts twisted in a tornado. That is, until his shoulders were grabbed and his name was called for what seemed to not be the first time. His eyes locked with Roman’s and the prince smiled.

“There you are,” he hummed. “You wouldn’t come here without a purpose. You’re too jittery for a social call with someone as magnificent and as busy as me.” Virgil had to refrain from rolling his eyes. It was true, but Roman was still an idiot. “What’s up, Virge?”

Virgil stared him right in the eye as he said, “I saw it.”

“Saw what?” Roman asked, though he seemed to know full well already.

“The clouds,” Virgil said. “You made the clouds--the, the lightning--you made it purple.”

Roman hummed softly. “I did.”

After a moment, Virgil raised his hands and rested them over Roman’s. He was fully expecting Virgil to push his hands away, but instead Virgil just...rested his own over Roman’s. His cheeks were flushed, which brought a responding dusting of pink to Roman’s cheeks.

“Virgil...?”

Virgil squeezed Roman’s hands and closed his eyes, as if it would give him the strength to say what he wanted. “Thank you.”

Roman smiled softly. “Consider it my thanks, and my apology.” At Virgil’s furrowed brow, he said, “I was awful to you when I should have listened to you. Even if I disagreed with you and thought you held Thomas back, even when you were totally wrong, your thoughts had merit. You keep Thomas safe where I cannot. And I was cruel to you, for no reason other than that you were rude and generally unsettling.”

Virgil shrugged. “Don’t really blame you.”

“Let me finish? Please?” Virgil flushed, immediately looking apologetic, and bit his lip nervously as he waited. “I shouldn’t have been so harsh and aggressive with you. I should have attempted to soothe your concerns. And in that vein, I wanted to thank you again for the other day.” Roman squeezed Virgil’s shoulders, and Virgil squeezed his hands back. “I don’t know what I would have done without.”

“You woulda found your wait out eventually,” Virgil said. “I just...y’know...sped up the process. Guided you along or whatever.”

“Mm.” Roman slowly stepped closer and leaned forward. “I needed a guide in that moment. I am very grateful I was found, and that it was you who found me.”

Virgil gulped, his eyes darting all over Roman’s face, searching. “Roman? Are you thinking about something stupid and reckless?”

“Almost always,” Roman replied with a playful smirk.

“Are you gonna act on it?”

“Probably,” he hummed, glancing down. “...May I?”

Virgil nodded before closing half the distance himself.


End file.
